Star of Dreams
by lindsey and marie enterprises
Summary: Okay, so if you've read the books for Lord of the Rings, then you know that Legolas has a daughter that he sent to the Undying Lands.  A friend of mine gave me this to put up for her.  Enjoy!  ONESHOT!  By Marie


_A friend of mine, who doesn't have a FanFiction profile, asked me to put this up for her. She has requested that her name be left anonymous. I think that she did really good on this, so please enjoy. Reviews will be read, flames will be ignored. Italics are Elvish, hyphens are translations, and bold italics are thoughts._

**Star of Dreams**

An unsuspected tree root nearly trips me as I sprint into the shelter of the nearby woods, everything still fresh in my mind. What had started out as a peaceful, normal day has drastically leaned towards a nightmare. I can remember the stillness of my sheltered Mirkwood home suddenly snap, like that twig I just stepped on. The attack, being separated from my mother, then realizing she's dead—that's the worst shock.

Then, my father screaming at me, "_Rima!_" -Run!- I know he knows that I'm almost as good as him with a bow. I guess he didn't want to lose me, too. So, here I am, a bow in one hand, a sheath of arrows on my back, running through the darkness of the forest. I skid to a stop at my favorite tree, and climb to the highest bough I can reach. I can see what looks like all of Middle Earth from here, seemingly undisturbed by the events that have just taken place. I lean against the broad trunk, catching my breath, and wait. Who knows when those Orcs will be gone? Or when they'll be back . . . I shudder, drawing my cloak around me and closing my eyes.

"_Elen, nin mir._" The phrase is soft, but my eyes snap open. Translating the phrase takes only milliseconds. '_Elen, nin mir._' Elvish for –Star, my jewel.- Star, I know, is my name, and only one voice like that would call me his jewel.

"_Ada,_" I sigh. Elvish for –father-. He has remembered where ha always told me to hide. I slip down the tree and into his awaiting arms, and we are silent, for the stillness of the forest night can be more comforting than words. I stir, looking at my father's partly bruised face and his blue eyes, reflecting sorrow and pain in the moon's soft rays. His long blonde hair is only slightly frazzled, but in all, not a member of it is drastically out of place. It's almost funny, how our hair cannot be phased by a small fight or a large fight. But, something is different. Inside.

"What's going to happen now?" I whisper.

"Now," he sighs, "now we go home. Then, we will decide what to do. You got me worried for a little while." I smile.

"What? Can't the Prince's daughter have a few moments alone in the woods?"

"Not when the Prince doesn't know," he replies, and I catch a smile. Why do I have the feeling they are going to be rarer than ever?

_**Because of today,**_ I remember sorrowfully as we silently wind our way back home. Nothing stirs, or even sings, as if the woods itself has been robbed of its voice. It seems everything has had something taken away from them today.

I've spent the past several days locked in my room. Has it been days? Or hours? Time is really a lost thing here. I walk to the window that looks out onto the city. It seems everything is pulling itself back together, even Father and me. Well, Mother's funeral set us back a little, but we're back on the mend, and we are getting stronger as a whole. The walls are repaired, the streets cleaned, and the smell of smoke is finally gone. The men have vanished from the streets, also. They've locked themselves in a room, too, along with my father. Well, the room is more like a hall. It's right below my room, so I can hear the rise and fall of voices. Nothing is really distinct except for the occasional "Legolas" someone says (or shouts. Most of the time it's spoken). My father's name, always following "Prince", of course. Sometimes the men speak in the Common Language, other times in Elvish. (I can tell by the time it takes someone to speak which language they're using.) But today, no one has spoken at all. I catch sight of a man entering a house across the street. The council is over, then. I hear his steps approaching the door.

"What was that about?" I ask, my back to the door. I hear him moving around sitting on my window seat beside me.

"That recovery is going well, and we should keep up the work." I look at him.

"That's all? No . . . there's something more. Something you're not telling me." He sighs again.

"I've decided . . . that you're going West."

"West?" I ask, and then it hits me. West. THE West. The Undying Lands. An honor reserved for Elves. And there's only one way to get there: boat. And there's no boat back to Middle Earth.

"Daddy? Why? Why now?" I fight back tears. Not for me, for him. For this decision.

"Because—because I don't want anything to happen to you. Like what happened to your mother. If I can prevent that, I will." It's my turn to sigh. A decision I can't refuse or really complain about. In the West, well, there's no pain. Or suffering, or anything bad. Ever. So I can do this. For my parents.

"Here we are the boat is ready." Elrond, I think, makes this announcement. I'm holding my father's hand, and I think I'm about to squeeze it off. The harbor is beautiful; truly the last place one wants to see before leaving to go West. My mother's best gown, a soft blue and purple, rustles as I walk, leaves clinging to my hair, almost like they are begging me not to go. But, go I must. At the boat, Daddy puts his cloak around me.

"Namarie. Im anuro an sidh sui le ego. Elen, nin mir a nin gel." -Farewell. I wish for peach as you go. Star, my jewel and my joy.- I can barely talk.

"Amn mela lle, Ada," I reply. -I love you, Daddy.- One last embrace, one last look, and then he's gone. Forever? Maybe. But, there's one thing I have that I keep as I scan horizon every day for him to come.

Estel is what I have.

Hope.

It's been Ages, literally, since I got off that boat. But, I haven't changed. The Ring-Bearers are here: The Three Elves, the wizard Gandalf, the savior of the Free World: Frodo Baggins, a hobbit, and his Uncle Bilbo. They tell me about the quest to destroy the Ring and that my father played a big part. They try their best to tell me every battle he helped win, every emotion he seemed to have, and his unlikely friendship with a dwarf named Gimli. I sighed when he was said to be sad, laughed when he was happy, and cheered over every victory. He was alive. That was pure joy in itself. After the excitement went down, I realized I missed him, with every passing day, just a little bit more.

Then, as I scanned the horizon one day with Gandalf and Frodo, a ship came along my line of vision.

"Look! A ship! A ship!" I cry, pointing to the direction of the approaching craft.

"But I thought we were on the last ship to leave Middle Earth, Gandalf." Frodo looked at the wizened, old man.

"Yes, we were. But others will find a way, like these did," he replies. I take off towards the pier to welcome the approaching guests. A short red-haired dwarf, I assume, and—and—I know that figure all to well.

"Ada!" I shout as comes off the boat. He has the look of pure bliss on his face as I nearly tackle him with a hug.

"Cormamin lindua ele lle!" he replies, a smile on his face. -My heart sings to see thee.- And that was what we did. We sang, we talked, we laughed, we did everything together, just like a father and daughter should.

Forever.


End file.
